


Opportunity of Youth

by ColdGold



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abortion, Age Difference, Blackmail, Breeding Kink, Child Marriage, Cult-like behavior, Cults, Death of Character, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Forced Marriage, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inaccurate Christianity, Large Cock, Loss of Virginity, Naive Girl, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Scare, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religious Cults, Religious Fanaticism, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sexism, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Small Towns, Underage - Freeform, Victim Blaming, almost, dark themes, it's all rough, or blackmail adjacent, purity culture, unreliable narrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdGold/pseuds/ColdGold
Summary: Leslie Hammond is 15 years old and the eldest in a large small town family that is struggling to get by.Mark Andersen is in his late 40s and has a small empire in the small towns around where he grew up. Next to everyone is his employee. He's a family man, and everyone looks up to him.When Mark and Leslie meet he knows he has to have her. Leslie doesn't know how to refuse him.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 19
Kudos: 211





	1. The first meeting

Mark Andersen was a good guy. Upstanding, successful, and friendly to everyone in Loughbury. He grew up in Loughbury and he was practically royalty, since he owned the biggest businesses and was the employer of next to everyone living in the town and the other one over. His main business was a factory making tennis shoes that were sold all over the country, even globally. He also owned a few stores, which in the small towns meant he owned all but the Target fifteen minutes outside of it and two of the shops on mainstreet. 

He lived with his wife and his three sons and two daughters on an old plantation, and while he didn’t have a confederate flag hanging in his home he wouldn’t deny that he was proud of being white and knew, in the way most small minded people knew something, that he was a member of the superior race. That wasn’t a thing he was open about, though he was sure everyone around him shared the same opinions, but you never knew with liberals an all, they could ruin his business. That’s what he would say at the dinner table, where his children gobbled up everything he said like it was gospel, and his wife hummed along in agreement. 

No, Mark didn’t agree with slavery. Like any good person he was proud of that his country had abolished slavery, but that didn’t mean everyone was equal. He wouldn’t admit it, but there was no way he’d promote any brown person to a manegerial position, and definitely not black people. 

There was one thing Mark knew, and that was that he was a typical American. Like anyone else. He had put in effort and worked his ass off, and now he was reaping the profits with his family. 

In his small kingdom he ruled, and he loved every single second of it.

\---

Leslie Hammond was only fifteen but already working in the only clothing store in town. She had started the day she turned fourteen since there was a shortage of workers considering most people worked in factories and her mom was the manager of that clothing store. Those that didn’t work there were mainly stay at home moms, of which there was plenty in a town as conservative as this, who also happened to be their biggest customer base. 

There wasn’t a lot of prospects for her in a town like this, and considering she was without talent in anything but mediocrity she didn’t have a clue on how she was going to escape it. She wasn’t smart, didn’t get good grades, sucked at any and all kinds of sports, and didn’t even know how to play twinkle twinkle on the piano at school. 

She did know that she didn’t want the life her mother had. Leslie’s mom, Emma, was only thirty-two. In high school she had started dating Leslie’s father, Henry, who was three years older, and it took only some weeks until she found out that she was pregnant with Leslie. Despite only being sixteen at the time her mom had married her father, and within six years she’d had another four children. That was when her dad got snipped, but another baby followed five years after the big snip. 

“In our family you only have to think about babies and you get pregnant,” Emma had told her daughter when the time of year for the sex-ed class rolled around. “I’m not going to let you make the same mistakes I did, Les.” That was the reason why Leslie wasn’t allowed to attend the sex-ed class, and instead sat in on the abstinence class which she’d attended enough times to know every single part of it. 

“Promiscuity is on the rise and public schools want to tell children how to have sex?” her father had said when Leslie had presented him with the information slip prior to the class. “If any of my children have sex, or god forbid get pregnant,out of wedlock I’m going to do what our parents did to us, and that is to throw us out on the street. I’m not having whores living in my house.”

Even though this was the usual fire speech that her father gave whenever the topic of teens and sex was brought up, Leslie never once pointed out the fact that her dadwas calling their mother a whore. Though it itched in her fingers she knew that he wouldn’t hesitate to beat her with a belt for disrespecting him. 

“And if you get anyone pregnant,” he had added when her brothers got older, “I will beat you within an inch of your life.” Her dad wasn’t great with words, he was better with his fists. That was why he worked on the factory floor. 

Her parents were of the belief that what she didn’t know couldn’t tempt her, and so far in her fifteen year long life that had been mostly true. Unlike her thirteen year old sister Paige, she had never been particularly curious. Leslie was practical, lived in the now, and accepted things for what they were. Paige would bombard people with questions, and when she reached a conclusion she would bend herself backward to question her own conclusion. Leslie just got frustrated in the presence of her sister who could never accept that anything simply was how it was. 

The town was small for everyone, but it was even smaller for Paige. That saddened Leslie, because even she would stare at the edge of the flat landscape where the sun seemed to fall off the sky and dream about the world where the sun was still high on sky. She wanted to visit London and see Big Ben in person. 

However, Leslie was not one to have her head in the clouds. Growing up in a family that barely survived as they lived paycheck to paycheck, sharing a crowded room with four sisters in only two beds, and helping raise her younger siblings for as long as she could remember, she had never been afforded that type of mentality. Her feet were firmly planted on the ground, and at fifteen she was sure she could see what the future had in store for her.

She was wrong, though. No one could see her future coming. 

\---------

It was rare for Mark to visit the shops he owned on mainstreet. It was even more rare for him to make the visit on a Saturday. He would make a few visits per year to keep up appearances with the shop managers, but couldn’t be bothered with the day to day details of whatever running a shop entailed. If he tried to do it all he would end up doing nothing. Delegating was an important skill to have, and that was one thing he wasn’t shy to admit to being good at. It was why he was successful, at least partially. 

The clothing store Beau & Betty had only been open for an hour when Mark’s arrival was signaled with the ring of the bell over the door. Leslie was making herself busy with tidying the shop and restocking sizes on the racks, and Emma was behind the cash register taking the opportunity to catch up on paper work. It was a slow Saturday between paychecks and the weather was nice for being late September. Most people were out taking advantage of a day off work with cookouts and outdoor adventures. Shopping was on few people’s mind in Loughbury. 

“Mr Andersen,” Emma said, suddenly standing straight from the slouched position where she had leaned against the back shelf by the register, engrossed in the papers in front of her. “Hello, welcome, it’s nice seeing you here!” she blabbered in a high pitched voice that triggered an involuntary eye-roll in Leslie.

“Hello Mrs Hammond,” Mark said with a warm smile, that usual warm smile that he gave everyone. “Thank you for your warm welcome.” He stepped around a table up front where an arrangement of tops that were less likely to wrinkle were folded in neat piles. 

“Leslie,” Emma called, waving her hand in front of her to motion her daughter towards her. “This is my daughter, Leslie, she’s the newest addition in the store.” Like a doting mother Emma brushed a stray strand of baby hair out of Leslie’s forehead. 

“Hmm,” Mark hummed in the way middle aged men hummed when they were introduced to a young woman who they were attracted to did. “Lovely meeting you miss Hammond.” When Leslie’s hand slipped into his to shake it Mark flipped it over and placed a seemingly innocuous kiss on the top of it. “You have a beautiful young woman as a daughter, Mrs Hammond, you better hold on to her tight.” His eyes wrinkled as he laughed but Leslie couldn’t see much humor in the man’s eyes.

Mark had a partiality to young teenage girls, there was something about the uncorrupted innocence in juxtaposition with their body starting to fill out. Leslie still had some of that child like figure, thin with just the beginnings of a curvature to her hips, yet her breasts were already filling out properly, and her face still had some of that childhood chubbiness. There was something about girls her age that made him want to defile them, like the urge to mark his foot prints in untouched snow. 

Mark had married his wife Caroline when she was just eighteen, he was ten years her senior and hadn’t quite yet understood that his attraction to women who looked like jailbait was anything different than normal attraction. He was young enough then and living in a small town where girls his own age had already been married for years already. No one thought it was weird that he married Caroline then. Twenty years later that attraction for his wife wasn’t there anymore. Her saggy breasts and stomach marred from birthing and nursing children disgusted him and he hadn’t had sex with her in years. 

There had been a countless numbers of affairs over the years for him. Some short, and some carrying on for years. All of the women had been above the age of eighteen, it was a well known secret that he cheated but a man as successful and virile as he was it wasn’t thought of as wrong by anyone. He stuck by his wife, didn’t divorce like weak godless people did, and that’s what they respected. Even though his young pretty bride grew old and ugly, he remained with her. That commanded respect in the eyes of the people that mattered in Loughbury. 

When he saw Leslie though, with her pale porcelain like skin, plump limps chapped, dirty blonde hair in a high bun on her head, and her wide blue eyes over pink cheeks blushing from the heatwave they’d been blessed with, he knew he was a goner. There was not a single vain thing in way she looked, it was all natural and she was a sight for sore eyes. He wanted to press his thumb against her lips, he wanted to bite them. 

“Thank you, Mr Andersen,” Leslie said after a long awkward pause, crossing her arms in front of her chest. He imagined that under the baggy t-shirt she wore her breasts pushed together in a tantalizing cleavage, but that was all left to the imagination. He swallowed up all of it. 

He was suddenly struck by an idea. “You know, at the factory we have a youth-intern program for high schoolers, it teaches important administrative and managerial skills, and will give you a little boost up the career ladder, even if you end up not working for me in the end.” It was a legitimate program, and she probably wasn’t eligible but he made the rules. He could make up some story about giving back to the community and equal opportunity. He knew how lefties would gobble that shit up. 

Henry, he knew was a piece of work. If someone didn’t give the man something to exert his energy on it would be exerted on someone instead. He also knew that the man was about as good with money as he was managing his rage, whatever money went into his pocket poured out. He had six children, which was one more than Mark had, and less than Henry wanted. Henry had poured his heart out to anyone and everyone who would hear him at the factory about being forced to get snipped. If Mark remembered correctly he compared it to having his manhood torn away from him.

When the snip didn’t prevent a sixth child from making it earth side four years ago Henry boasted than no doctor could deny the word of god and that he wasn’t done populating the earth just yet. However, his wife was now adamant about the usage of condoms. If Henry wasn’t bright enough to figure out the pin trick Mark wasn’t going to enlighten him. 

“I don’t know…” Leslie was reluctant, the curse of being a realistic young girl was that she was well aware of the fact that interning meant unpaid. She looked over at her mother. 

“It’s flattering, really Mr Andersen,” Emma said, and looked over at her daughter wearily. She did wish that she could let her daughter have this experience, it was one leg up in a town where ladders were hard to come by. In an instance she felt like a terrible mother, it really shouldn’t be on her daughter to provide for her younger siblings, but life was tough. 

“I sense a but,” Mark said, rocking back on his heels deep in thought, unable to figure out why a person would turn down something like this. The applications for this internship consisted of most of the current high school in town. Not Leslie, though. She hadn’t applied. 

“It’s the loss of income,” Emma said, wincing at the words. Money talk wasn’t proper. 

“Ah, I see.” Mark didn’t, but that was the sort of thing a kind generous man would say in a situation like this. He sucked on his bottom lip as he mulled over the problem presented before him. “Considering your family situation, that you and your husband both are dedicated employees, and we want more kids than just the ones that are already well off to have this opportunity… I’m going to provide your daughter with a scholarship that matches the pay for the hours worked on average each week the past three months.” 

Emma’s face lit up with a smile larger than any smile that had graced her face in over a decade. “Oh Les, this is amazing! That is so generous Mr Andersen!” Emma was practically gushing where she stood in the middle of Beau & Betty.

Something uneasy settled in Leselie’s stomach but she smiled past it up at Mark. “Thank you, sir.” She didn’t know what it was about Mark that set off alarm bells inside of her, there was nothing about him that was scary. Everyone knew him, everyone spoke well about him. Yet something gnawed at her subconscious. 

Mark couldn’t help but be swept away in the joy of his employee as Emma jumped into her daughter’s arms, squeezing her tight. Leslie smiled up at him, wide eyed and bright but something else behind them. The beginnings of a woman’s inkling, an intuition that some women, like Emma, never developed. Maybe he would have liked Leslie more naive, not already looking for the catch, but the chase would be all the more sweeter if the young girl knew some of what was coming. 

\-----

That night he found Leslie’s facebook page. There were sparse images that were public, but there was one from last year when her breasts had just started to grow and she was holding a water gun, wearing just a bikini top and long board shorts. The top covered most of her small chest, but it was revealing enough for him to imagine how she would look like naked underneath him. With his cock in her mouth. 

His balls tightened in his pyjama pants, and he rubbed himself slowly. He wanted to last, it was so easy to go too fast and he wouldn’t get to savor the images in his head, fully enjoy and plan what he would do to her. He had videos on his computer that could help him spur his imagination, young girls making the videos obviously illegal and with that all the more titilating for him. 

For this he didn’t need the help. 

He imagined himself cornering her in his office under the pretense of showing her how to do this thing or another, and then pressing his slightly hardened cock against her behind. She would fluster innocently, writing it off as an accident. Then he’d do it again, and again, his fingers trailing against the soft skin underneath her shirt as she squirmed.

She would question what he was doing, squirm as if being tickled. Maybe she would laugh, like it was a joke to try to get him to back off. He wouldn’t. He would continue to rub himself against her, push his hand up her shirt and squeeze her breasts, they would fit nicely into his hands. 

Then he’d push her to her knees, force his cock into her mouth until she gagged on it --

He tore his eyes away from the image of her. He had to pace himself. Though the image of her mouth stretched over his cock made it twitch in his trousers, begging for release. He pulled the pyjamas down, letting it free. One of his girlfriends, before Caroline, had told him his cock was the size of a porn star. He had both girth and thickness, and most women he’d been with had found it more uncomfortable than pleasurable at first. Some never got used to it, and if he were honest it was the women who never got used to it that he loved fucking the most. 

While he didn’t know about ephebophilia until he was in his 30s and joined forums with likeminded men around the world, he knew early in his life that he was a bit of a sadist. Not like some people who would literally torture others, no he liked inflicting pain but he wasn’t a psycho. 

When he would finally take young Leslie’s virginity he hoped she would cry, he imagined her tears and pittyful sobs at him to stop. He wouldn’t of course. He imagines her young pert ass lying over his lap as he slapped it red and blue, once again in this she was sobbing. Maybe he would take her ass too, claim it. He’d only done that a handful of times, older women had sense enough to say no to a cock his size in their asshole. Leslie wouldn’t have the sense, and she wouldn’t get the chance to say no. She’d probably say no a lot, he hoped she would. It wouldn’t matter.

Mark didn’t consider himself a rapist. He knew he was a good guy, an upstanding guy, and he was friendly. Everyone knew this. But he had taken what he knew was owed him plenty of times in his life, because denying him wasn’t an option. He was royalty in this town and he did whatever the fuck he wanted.


	2. First steås

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leslie's first day of her internship starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a note I forgot to include in the first chapter. Nothing in this story is something I condone, or promote, it is purely fictional and a fantasy of control. Nothing about this is inspired by real events.
> 
> This chapter was written on my phone so there might be some typos. I have tried to clean it up and might continue to do so with time.

With her store discount Emma had bought her daughter two new pants, black chinos, and a few blouses in different colors. For Leslie’s first day of her internship Emma had selected a dark purple blouse for her daughter, and watched as her daughter dressed with a painful realization that her child was growing up and away from her. Just like Emma had done from her own mother. 

It has been some weeks since Mark had offered Leslie the internship, and through her school’s work-study program she would spend Thursday and Fridays at her internship, and the rest of the days in school. During the weekends she would watch her younger siblings as Emma worked. Henry has declared the weekend as his period of rest from fatherhood and would not participate in child rearing. 

That decision has caused a further prickling in Emma and Henry’s marriage, especially after the discovery that Emma was expecting a new baby due in June of the next year. 

Leslie knew that babies were made from a man and a woman who were married, but they could also happen outside of marriage but that was wrong and was an immediate reason to get married. It involved some rubbing together and doing something, a voluntary action, at least. Which was why it confused her as to why her parents couldn’t stop having babies when they obviously didn’t want one. 

“You know, some women travel to Birmingham to deal with that sort of thing,” one of the other clerks at Beau & Betty said to Emma. 

“Joanna! There are children here,” Emma has scolded and cast a worried glance her daughters way. “If god decided we should have another child I’m not going to murder one of his children. I can only blame myself.” 

Leslie has heard of women who got pregnant and then went to a clinic to get rid of the baby in their stomach. From what she heard it sounded awful and vile and she has no idea on why anyone would do that. Why would someone chose to make a baby only to rip it apart inside of them? Leslie knee she wa a missing information, but if their priest said it was wrong, and her parents said it was wrong, who was she to question it? It didn’t matter if she didn’t know the technicalities of it. 

“It’s nice, you having your own thing,” Emma said as she braided her daughter’s hair into a Single French braid. Not the double Dutch braids she used to so. “You spend so much time looking after your younger sisters and brothers I do worry about your future, but this my little angel, this is just for you.”

“What if I’m bad at it?” Leslie gnawed at her lip. She didn’t know anything about what she was supposed to do there. 

“Then you’ll learn.” Emma patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Dad will take you to the factory, he’s waiting for you.”

Though her mom had sentimental words for his daughter, her father had none. It was hardly unusual, but Leslie couldn’t help but feel the disappointment well in her stomach. This was one thing her father could definitely be proud of and express just one small word of encouragement. He just pointed in the direction of the front office once they arrived at the factory in the side of town, and took off in the other direction. 

Her father was very much a man and Leslie was unfair to expect anything from him. At least that’s what her mother said. 

At the reception she was given a name tag and was escorted into a room with a large table that had fifteen chairs around it. She counted. Only one was occupied. 

“Early bird, that’s a good first impression!” Mark said with a large grin on his face. “Welcome to your first day!”

“Thank you Mr Andersen. My dad dropped me off.” She twisted her foot behind her and eyes the chairs around the table. 

“Please sit,” he said pointing to the chair next to his. “We’re waiting for one more person. The other three are on the Monday-Tuesday rotation so it’s just you and Hunter who will do this schedule.” 

Mark could not deny that this choice was purposeful. Hunter Lowry was a lazy boy whose father lacked any form of discipline, and as soon as Hunter grew bored of working his father would flip the switch and pull his son out of the program. Mark’s own son was a classmate of Hunter and he’d had the pleasure of ensuring the weak willed parenting Hunter’s parents practiced since his son William still has milk teeth. 

“Hunter Lowry?” she asked. She was so shy and timid, her hands fidgeting in her lap and the vision made his cock twitch. 

He had considered Leslie for a while and wondered why exactly she was the one who would make him cross the line. He’d come to several conclusions. Under the strict thumb of her father the girl was ignorant about most things, which made her naive. It would be easy to corrupt that ignorance for his own gain, gain entry without raising suspicion too soon. She would also tell no one, as shy as she were and with her parents puritanical views, she was unlikely to tell anyone. 

He also had an advantage over her. Both her parents were his employees, and if her school record was any indication she was going to stick around and end up working for him too. There was no way she would risk that. 

Then there was this view of her. She was beautiful, though in a quite ordinary way. Unlike most fifteen year olds these days she wasn’t sexualizing herself. She looked like a child. He wanted her like that, with knobby knees still but breasts to squeeze and suck on. 

“Yes, he’s two years above you, right?” Leslie nodded. He was a senior. “It’s people in all grades that do this internship, it just happens to be more popular with seniors as they’re trying to build up their applications for college.” 

“Ah, right.” Her hands twisted more. He wondered how she would react to his fingers in her pussy, or him putting her hands on his erect cock. He couldn’t wait for it. 

“How’s school?” He knew how school was for her, but knowing wasn’t the point. 

“It’s alright, I don’t really like it.” She shrugged her shoulders. She did that nervous thing where she bit her lip. So innocent but it did send shivers down his spine. “I’d rather be making money.” 

“Ah, well school does have some valuable lessons to teach which can help you with that.” He happened to know that Leslie was one of the many children who never had a sex-ed class, which meant he would get the opportunity to teach her his way. That was one lesson she would miss out on, and suffer for. He had no qualms about that. 

“I suppose,” she twisted in her chair to look out the door for Hunter to show up. 

“School isn’t for everyone and that’s okay, I employ quite a few people who never graduated high school,” he confessed. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. 

“Would you hire me?” she asked, a very soft and cute tint to her voice. 

“I already have, Leslie,” he tested using her given name, “but, to work here at the factory you need to be above eighteen, so there’s a few years left.” Only three, and it hit him with a sense of sadness that she would far too quickly grow out of this phase and become an adult. He should’ve found her when she was younger. Where was his limit, was it thirteen or fourteen? He hasn’t had sex with anyone under sixteen since he was 24, so he didn’t know anymore. 

“Oh, okay. So… stay in school, I guess?” She laughed but it was a hollow laugh. She was far more synical than he had expected and his chest expanded with fondness for it. 

Unexpectedly, Leslie was feeling some similar feelings. Mark was much easier to hang out with alone than she had thought, her earlier suspicions of him asked to melt away and she smiled at him. 

Leslie had no friends but Mark was talking to her like she was an equal and not a child. She loved that. She wanted more if it. 

Just as she opened her mouth to continue the conversation Hunter stumbled into the room. 

—-

Mark hasn’t masturbated as much as he did the first week Leslie spent at the office. It was only a few days, but by the end of the second Friday his cock was sore from abuse and the constant breaks he had to take in his office. 

No matter what Leslie did, all he could think of were ways he could defile her. First he had to make Hunter quit, and by giving him the most boring tasks and having him fetch coffees while Leslie learned the basics of book-keeping he could see the steam rising from Hunter going up quicker than he had even expected. 

It took until the second Friday when Hunter called it quits by simply not showing up in the morning. 

“I’m glad he’s gone,” Leslie said when Mark left some notes for her to transcribe on the desk in front of her. “He was a whiny spoilt baby.” Mark couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the girl’s assessment. 

“You are spot on, Leslie, you’re good at reading people,” he said with a smile. She wasn’t, really, because she still couldn’t see through him. The blush that rose up her cheeks was worth it though, and he watched it spread down her throat and underneath the blouse she wore. It was pink today. 

He wondered what she would look like after he’d brought her to orgasm after orgasm for the first time, would her blush spread across her body like that then? He’d bury his face between her legs and taste that sweet innocent nectar. 

He discovered another thing he liked about her. She was tiny, next to his 6 foot 5 her barely 5 foot 2 body was dwarfed. Would she even be able to take his dick? He would make it fit. It would fit. He’d bounce her on his dick until she was cross-eyed. 

“I don’t know about that Mr Andersen,” she worried her lip between her teeth again. “Did you know my mom is having another baby?” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. That was unexpected. 

“I heard from your father, yes.” The man must have figured out how to poke a hole in the condoms. 

“Mom doesn’t want it and I don’t get why she made a baby if she didn’t want it.” Leslie was frustrated, she didn’t want another baby in the house that she has to take care of, and she was sick of her parents arguing over space and money. 

“Ah, it’s not that easy,” Mark tutted. He tried to remain calm as his heart stuttered in his chest. He has agonized in how to breech the topic of sex with her, and her she was presenting it willingly. 

“Well, don’t you decide to have one and then you do?” Her frustration spilled over and she slammed her hands against the table. 

“Not quite,” Mark said “I don’t know if I should tell you this… your parents might get mad at me.” He feigned worry, watching her eyes widen 

“What do you mean?” The girl wasn't one of the curious girls and that he proven to be a challenge from the beginning, but he had found his way in now. He was sure if it. 

“The way babies are made isn’t just for making babies,” he elaborated, waiting to see her reaction - furrowed eyebrows and eyes darting around as if trying to read an invisible page - before he continued. “The act that can make babies, but doesn’t always, is very pleasurable. Imagine eating your favorite sweet for treat, and take that times a thousand, and there you have it.” 

His cock reacted to the thought, growing just ever so slightly hard in his pants. 

“That’s not what Pastor Joel says,” her tone was contrary. The damn priest and his cockblocking. 

Mark simply smiled. “Have you ever felt something press between your legs and give that small burst of a good feeling coming from there?” That made her think. 

“Our bed at home as these knobs and if I sit back and lean on them, putting just a little pressure…. there,” she paused and blushed scarlet red, “that feels good. I sometimes…” she trailed off, throat stuck. 

Mark pulled his chair to sit next to her, placing a hand in her upper thigh. It was huge on her. He was such an impatient man, but he was sure the wait would be worth it. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of Leslie, it’s natural and it’s your parents and Pastor Joel that are unnatural in making you deny that part of you.” He squeezed her thigh. “Tell me what you do.”

After she left to help Lucinda at the reception he would jerk off furiously to any story he told him now. He knew it. He knew it. 

“I‘ll sit on it and rock back and forth so that I’ll feel more,” she squirmed. “Or I just press myself against it and… rub, if I’m alone.” Oh god, Mark wanted nothing more now than to see her mastuebatw against the wooden knob of his own bed at home.

“Have you ever had an orgasm, Leslie?” He wanted to cry from happiness when she just looked confused at the question. “You know when the pressure builds and builds until you feel like you’ll combust, and then you feel so much pleasure.” He sighed, for show. “It’s the best feeling ever. If you rub that spot between your legs with your fingers you’re can also get that feeling. Someone else can also do it for you.”

Her eyes looked down into her lap at his hands that rubbed her thigh. 

“I shouldn’t be saying these things, I shouldn’t be doing them,” she whispered to herself. 

“Leslie, remember that I’m an adult here and I know right from wrong. What you’re feeling or doing isn’t wrong.” He drew a shaky breath. “I feel it too. And you talking about rubbing yourself against that knob makes me feel things to.” 

He carefully lifted her hand and placed it over his clothes cock.

“This is natural, this is what god gave us. “ Her small hands felt wonderful against his cock, even though there was two layers of fabric between. She gave a light squeeze and he had to hold his moan, which required almost all self-control he had. “When my cock gets harder that means that god loves us and wants us to feel good.”

Her eyes were transfixed in his lap. She had seen her dad’s penis once, but it wasn’t hard. She thought men only peed with it, and women peed with their vaginas and pushed babies out of them.

“Do you want to see it?” he asked. She shouldn’t want to, she thought, but despite that she nodded. 

He carefully unzipped his pants, moving her hand just a little out of the way. Gingerly he pulled his cock out of his pants. It was thick and big, but not at full potential yet. He looked at her face, she was absolutely transfixed at the sight of it. Horrified, too, at the size of it, even without knowing where it was meant to go. 

“Do you want to touch it?” Without replying her fingers reaches out to feel the hot skin, tracing the veins that started to pop out, the underside of the mushroom head, down to the ball sack that hung heavy at the base. 

“Wrap your hand around it,” she obeyed carefully cuddling his cock. Her hand was tiny on it “Like this,” he said, his hand wrapping around hers and putting more pressure on it, pumping her hand up and down, over the head and down again. 

“It’s wet,” she said, and sticky. Whatever was leaking out of the hole on top was sticky. 

“Yeah, it’s just my body’s way of telling me I’m aroused. Just like your body makes your private pet wet and warm when you’re aroused.” He paused. “Do you feel wet between your legs.” 

Leslie pauses for a moment, to feel the sensations in her body. “A little, I think.” 

“Leslie, you are an angel,” he said as he continued to pump their hands up and down his cock. “Leslie, I need you to do one thing for me…” He opened her palm and held it under her mouth. “I need you to spit in your hand, a lot, for me to not get a lot of bad pain from this.”

She hesitated for a few moments before she produced a healthy amount of spit in the middle of her palm 

“You’re such a good girl,” he said, and she felt her body light up at the affirmation. 

He kept her hand on his cock, pumping up and down, showing her how to do it, until his body shuddered and cum dribbled down their hands. 

He held their hands forward, the cum runny and sticky in her hands. 

“This, Leslie, if you put this in the hole between your legs it can make a baby.”

Horrified she jumped up and searched for a hand towel. She was not going to get pregnant. 

“Easy girl, it takes more than a hansjob to make a baby.” He winked. “I can show you, another day, what an orgasm feels like. But then I would have to put my hands between your legs. Are you okay with that?”

He almost has a heart attack when Leslie nodded. 

First he needed her trust, then he was going to take it all. He just needed her dependent on him first.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two weeks after "the incident" in his office and it's Halloween. Mark decides to have a private Halloween party with just him and Leslie. It doesn't go exactly as Leslie thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer chapter... which I hope you all like. I was unsure on whether to keep the "chat" part in this or not, but felt like it gave a bit of insight on Mark and the people he surrounds himself with and embolden him, and also how he feels about himself in comparision to them. Idk, let me know if that was a good or bad decision.
> 
> This chapter is also very explicit, and has some violence in it. Like, if you read this story and need trigger warnings in chapters, this story isn't for you, because I write about some of the worst things people can do to other people as a way of coping with it and with life in general , and that means I often write some very fucked up shit. 
> 
> Soundtrack to writing this was "Interstellar sountrack" by Hans Zimmer. Pretty good writing music, and one of the best sountracks overall IMO.

Leslie fell asleep that night with the image of Mark’s hard cock imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Only, in her thoughts it was a penis; or more colloquially private parts. It had been hot in her hands, smooth and hard like a bone underneath it. Her hand couldn’t wrap around it.

On her way home she had looked at her hand and tried to reimagine it, to figure out the size of it. Did all men hide such big snakes in their trousers? She snuck a careful glance at her father’s lap besides hers. There was a bulge of something sitting between his thighs that were spread wide, but something that big mut be more visible, surely?

The weekend passed and she thought of it more. Leslie didn’t question a lot of things but this she just didn’t understand. She couldn’t tell her parents, she knew they would be furious with her. So she couldn’t ask them about why Mark wanted her hands on his private parts, or about the sticky stuff that had come out of him and that that made babies.

There was no way for her to find out either. Their house only had one computer in the living room where their screen time was heavily monitored and their father would keep track of their browsing history. Her parents had installed something on her phone that not only restricted her to limited functions, she was definitely not online, and even if she were her parents could see exactly everything she did. 

That coming monday she couldn’t keep her eyes away from the crotches of boys and men, trying to figure out what was normal and what was not. 

She did this despite the sermon their pastor held that sunday. It was about turning one’s eye from lust and from the pleasures of the earth and flesh. Though Leslie hadn’t felt any pleasure from what she did with Mark, it still felt like Pastor Joel spoke directly to her. Mark had told her not to listen to him, but she didn’t know. Her dad and god were who she should listen to, that’s always been what she was told. 

Leslie feared that she was becoming a slut. Her father would hang her on a cross like Jesus Christ himself for it but without the intervention of god. 

Mark, on the other hand, was having the best week of his life. Though things could go wrong still, he knew that one way or another, he would stick his cock in her cunt. He wanted her like a frog in cold water, slowly raising the temperature until she was… cooked. The metaphor wasn’t perfect. 

With the guys on the forum he could be candid. It was a secure page, he wasn’t stupid and about to tip off some feds. No, the forum was for men like him, men who were smart, rich, and thought of themselves as invincible. 

**BCqing**  
Had her jerking me off last week, didn’t even know how babies are made. Little is going to give me a heart attack.

 **Pedro6969**  
Wow! Quick work! With my L it took her two months before she was jerking me off. Love that look on their face when seeing a real cock for the first time

 **VainIG**  
@ Pedro I remember that haha! Was hilarious how slow you were with that  
@ BC let me guess? You went the sex-ed route?

 **BCqing**  
I’m predictable  
Can’t wait to see her mouth on me. She’s going to be so good for me

 **H3ro**  
Wait are you considering a long term thing?

 **VainIG**  
Not everyone fucks and dumps  
Sure all girls just want to be used lol  
But be careful with parents

 **BCqing**  
Parents aren’t an issue

 **H3ro**  
Takes too much energy, especially when they get older  
You should’ve gotten her when she was younger

 **BCqing**  
She both looks and acts younger, doesn’t dare to question anything or anyone.I have to thank her father for beating that out of her

 **Pedro6969**  
Wear a condom, don’t make the mistake DS did

 **BCqing**  
DS knocked up a 13 year old  
Not that stupid and her parents would rather me marry her than press charges. Bless the south for that

 **VainIG**  
God bless the south indeed  
Brb this conversation is making me want to pound my L’’s pussy  
She’s not going to be able to walk straight tomorrow at school!!!

 **Pedro6969**  
Look at that, Vain living the life. Had to call up X on friday, he had some girl he claimed was thirteen but I swear she was at least sixteen

I can’t do the hooker thing might as well fuck an 18 year old then

 **Pedro6969**  
You’re such a connoisseur!  
Have you seen this girl on tiktok? Wait I’m sending a vid. Been jacking off to her for like a month now

Mark sat back and read the conversation that Pedro and Hero started over a young girl on tiktok that was making videos far too adult for her age. He could see why it got the men going, but it did nothing for him today. He wanted something younger, someone younger. 

While the men chatted back and forth about what they’d do to the girl -- tag teaming and spitroasting were some words they threw around -- he closed the chat and his laptop, leaning back in his chair to ponder over a few things.

Most of these men lived in cities, they were all over the world, and they had connections that Mark could only dream of. But with all those services, young girls showing up at your door, so did issues he was glad to avoid. The porn on his computer was illegal, but if no one thought to look for it then he was safe with it. If he bought a 13 year old for the night he was at much greater risk to be discovered.

This was better, where he got to groom and make the rules. He got to be the one to ruin her. He was in charge. 

If there was one thing Mark craved more than anything it was control. In all facets of his life he needed control. From what his children did after school, or what his wife wore, to the way they spoke, the way they thought. His eldest daughter, April, was a year and a half older than Leslie, but certainly precocious and always had been. It was possible that he was to blame for that, maybe it was part of his genes, but she was their most challenging child thus far. Jacob and William had been better behaved, he suspected it had something to do with them being boys. Grace, so far, was young and had potential, but he could see the mirth in her eyes when they disciplined her. 

He needed to do better, needed to mold them better. Caroline, while a dutiful wife, still had that spark left in her that he could not control. He hated it. Hated it when she resisted his word, when she refused to bow to her husband’s will. He got her young enough, before she got a taste of true freedom, but she was old enough to have begun to yearn for it and that he could not beat out of her or convince her to give up. He could see her yearning for another life and he hated her for it 

Leslie would be good for him. A young girl who did not question, who took his cock in her hand as soon as he placed it there and did not flinch. Of course, she had no idea what he had planned for her. 

\--------

“It’s Halloween today,” Mark said. It was two weeks after the incident, as she liked to refer to it in her head. He hadn’t made her do it again, but he’d touched her more. He touched her shoulders, her waist, his hands lingered on her neck and squeezed. Once she had leaned over his desk and he had put a hand on her bum and squeezed. She had startled then, looking at him as he grinned down at her. There was something she was not privy to and she did not ask.

Asking lead to no good, her father had told her once. If you need to know something you will get told. It had taken so long for the bruises on her back to heal that it was a lesson she never forgot.

“Yeah, I know,” Leslie said, a big smile on her face. Did he think she did not know it was Halloween? Everyone knew that, the whole school had been buzzing about it earlier in the week. Adults were weird. 

“Are you going to any parties, dressing up?” 

“No, mom and dad won’t allow it,” she shrugged, her fingers tapping on the keyboard as she paused her slow but steady progress of entering data in a spreadsheet. “It’s a holiday for devil worshippers.”

“Sounds like your parents,” he said, humming. “It’s originally a holiday of honoring the dead, of lighting candles on graves and remembering them.” He tapped his fingers against the desk. “It’s also now a holiday about having fun.”

“I’m not invited to the fun, anyway.” She shrugged. 

“You know what?” He looked at her so expectantly, like she had the answer, she shook her head. “You should come over to ours, have some fun.” 

“I don’t know if my parents will be okay with that…” she squirmed in her seat, knowing she wouldn’t be brave enough to ask her parents for that. It wouldn’t go over well, she knew that. She knew enough things. She knew. 

“They’re not going to allow you to network with your boss?” He scoffed. “Don’t worry, I’ll set it up with your parents. I even have a costume for you!”

He’d been planning this ever since she put her hands on his cock. 

\------

Unsurprisingly, her parents allowed her to go to her boss’ house. How could they say no to their boss, Mark thought. He knew how her parents thought, he could play them like puppets and do whatever he wanted to do to their daughter. Pull a string here, pull a string there and put a cock in her cunt. 

When they arrived to his house she sat in the passenger seat with her body folded into itself, looking so young and so sexy. As he parked the car he slipped onto her leg and squeezed his fingers between her tiny thighs. It was far enough from the price to seem innocent to her, but high enough for him to feel the anticipation building at the back of his spine. 

It felt weird, his hands there digging into her thigh. She wanted to move away but didn’t want to be rude. She tried to square her shoulders, look confident, but her stomach felt like a tight knot. So tight it almost hurt. 

“Okay, so here at my house you get treated like you’re an adult, okay?” When she didn’t look at him he took her chin between his thumb and index finger, lifting her face up to his. “This means you will have to act like one, too.” He held her still there until she nodded, then he released her. “Let’s go inside.”

The first thing she noticed was that there was no one there. Two other cars were in the driveway, but the house with the large floor to ceiling windows… it looked empty. 

He took her inside, guided her towards the back of the house where the living room was. That’s where his wife sat, poised and elegant. Leslie knew she was a few years older than her own mom, but they had the same aged look in their eyes that said they had enough already. Life was a challenge for women, their duty for god was to have and raise children, and that it was nothing to question but it was hard work. Not every woman in town looked like that, but Caroline and Emma had more in common than either of them knew. 

Caroline looked up at them, looked at her husband and at Leslie. Something passed before her eyes, judgment, disgust, and resignment, all at once. 

“Good evening, I suppose you’re Leslie,” Caroline said, remaining on her spot on the couch, a glass of white wine balancing in her hand. She looked like one of those movie characters, Leslie thought. 

“Good evening Mrs Hammond,” Leslie replied, bowing her head. 

“So you do know I’m a missus.” Caroline’s tone was dry, her lip curled over her top teeth in a way that was surprisingly unattractive on a face as beautiful as hers. 

“Carly,” Mark said, his voice deeper than Leslie ever heard it before, and it sent chills down Leslie’s spine. “Go to your room.” Like she was a child, Leslie thought, sent off to her room. It was new, she’d always thought that once you got older no one could tell you where to go when you were in your own house. Apparently she was wrong. 

Caroline’s face dropped, fear glassed her eyes in the same way that it did on Paige and the twins’ faces before they got a beating. Lucas was never scared, Samuel was so young he only wailed. At some age you passed the wailing and instead became silent, knowing that no amount of sadness or fear could change what was about to happen. All you had to do was endure. So you had to clamp it down, or the beating would be worse.

Mark only waited for Leslie to get off the couch before he pushed Leslie further towards the back of the house with a hand placed between her shoulder blades. 

“I have an outfit for you,” he said unlocking a door to a bedroom with a key. It was large, with a massive bed and a comforter she wanted to dive into and sleep in. That bed could fit all three of her siblings sharing a room. This room was the size of their kitchen and living room combined. 

It was obviously someone’s bedroom. There were things on the bedside table -- a pump bottle of something, she didn’t know what, a book, a charger, earphones, there were things on the desk at the side of the room, a laptop closed and usb drives littered around it. The bed was made, but not well. Not like her mother had her and her siblings make their bed. 

While Leslie took the room in Mark disappeared into the closet and retrieved the outfit he wanted her to wear. He was unsure of what her reaction would be to it, but he knew that he could get her into it. She would want to please him. 

“Here is the outfit,” he held it up in front of her. He was a simple man of simple tastes. It was a skimpy cheerleading uniform with a top that passed more for a bra, and a skirt that would hit further than her upper thighs. With the volume of it, was it frill? He didn’t know, but with it the skirt would seem even shorter. 

“Oh that’s….” she recoiled. Ah, he had met her limit. Finally. 

“Hey Les, remember that you’re an adult in this house, and if you want me to treat you like an adult you have to act like one, okay?” He stepped forward, holding the outfit out for her. “I will be very disappointed in you if you let me down here, and in myself, I thought you were mature enough… but maybe I was wrong about you.” He sighed. “You could go so far Leslie.” He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek.

They were silent for a few moments as Leslie regarded the outfit. Maybe she overreacted, maybe it wasn’t that bad? It was only clothes. 

“Are you going to put the outfit on?” He kept her eyes steady on his, his hand on her cheek still.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay _sir_.” She bit her lip.

“Okay, sir.” He smiled a wide beaming smile at her, his chest bursting with pride.

“Good girl.” That almost caught her off guard, no one had called her a good girl before, no one had praised her. It felt good, it felt like soothing balm against her mind and she wanted more of that. She wanted to hear him saying it again. “Go change in the bathroom.”

Once in the bathroom, having shimmied out of her slacks and the shirt she’d worn to work, she realized that her training bra would not fit under the top of the costume. She’d have to go without one. Her breasts had grown a lot during the last year, and despite them becoming big enough that things like running became uncomfortable, her parents wouldn’t buy her a proper bra. She was currently trying to convince them to get a sportsbra, at least. Something to make the jerking movements not feel like her breasts were jumping up and down painfully. 

With a deep breath she took off the bra and quickly put the top on. She had closed the door and locked it behind her, but she didn’t want to take any risks that he could see her naked breasts. That wasn’t proper. She was a good girl, remember?

Mark was great at guessing sizes on women, and the skirt fit around her small waist perfectly, the scotch red patterned skirt met her upper mid thigh, tickling the skin with a feather light touch. The shortest skirt she had ever worn was when she was seven years old and it was a skirt that was knee-long. Her parents would not approve.

She glanced in the mirror, twirling around to see what would happen, and the skirt rode high enough to reveal the white underwear underneath with small pink hearts in a pattern all over it. Huh, she thought, she would have to be careful moving around in this thing.

The top was a little better, it covered her, but all of her midriff was bare. She had been allowed to wear a bikini this summer because she was getting too old for it. It was indecent, they said. Her collarbone was on display too, and the top dipped down in a deep v, showing her upper breasts.

This was more than anyone but her family had ever seen of her. 

After taking a few calming breaths she stepped back into the room, where Mark had discarded his suit jacket and tie, the top buttons on his shirt had been unbuttoned, and his shoes were off. He sat on the bed, facing the bathroom. Waiting for her.

“Wow,” he said, leaning back on his hands as he stared at her body. She looked better than he ever could’ve hoped. That slight curve to her waist and hips was slightly accentuated, her breasts perky despite no bra (he saw her nipples through the thin fabric), but she was still so skinny and tiny like very few adults could manage. Her metabolism hadn’t yet slowed down, her body was still growing. He could probably wrap his hands around her waist and touch the fingers on his other hands, no problem. 

She was trying, and failing, to pull the skirt down a little, but the sizing was so perfect that it wouldn’t move waistline. 

“You look amazing, Les.” He walked towards her, and for the first time ever did she feel his height on her. She had to strain her neck to meet his eye. “I need you to show this off for me.” He pulled her further into the room, closer to the bed, where he sat down again. “Turn around.”

She moved around slowly, careful of how her skirt moved, so she wouldn’t flash him. 

“No,” he said with a laugh. “Twirl, faster.” She paused and looked at him, deer in the headlights, and swallowed. She spun in a quick circle then stopped, the skirt swishing around her and tickling her legs. “Leslie, don’t act like a child now.” But I am one, she wanted to say, but also she wanted him to like her and say she was a good girl, and she knew that he was her parent’s boss and who knows what he’d do if she didn’t listen. She remembered the fear flash in Caroline’s eyes. 

So she twirled, in circles,holding her arms to her chest and closing her eyes tight.

As he watched her unwillingly twirl in circles in front of him, her skirt rising up and up and up until he had full view of those beautifully cute and innocent panties, he marveled at what he could make her do. Full control. Even as she wobbled from dizziness she continued to twirl until she stumbled on her own two feet. 

She was too dizzy and disoriented to see what was happening, to feel any conttrol of her body. She could only feel his hands on her arms and then softness against her back. The ceiling, she focused on the ceiling as he hoisted her further up the bed.

“Are you going to be sick?” he asked, stroking her face, her arms, her stomach. She shook her head, staring at the white ceiling that was coming more and more into focus, and his face over her head. He was smiling down at her. She was on her back on his bed. It was just as comfortable as she thought it was. 

“I’m good,” she said, but there was still a lingering nauseated feeling at the back of her throat. She could manage, though.

“You’re such a good girl, doing what I tell you.” He caressed her upper thighs, pushing the skirt up further. “I’m going to give you a reward now, it’s something that’ll make you feel good.” He took her knees and pushed them apart, wide. “Keep your legs apart, okay darling?” 

She could feel the air between her thighs, cool and strange, and she nodded. 

She looked perfect like this, he thought, legs wide enough to almost fit him between them, and he felt as though he would have a heart attack with her in front of him like this. 

First, he pushed up the top, revealing those pink small nipples, pert and stiff against her porcelain skin. He traced a thumb over one of them, then the other. He would be gentle this time, at first, he didn’t want to scare her immediately. He’d find a reason to be rough, soon enough. She gave him reasons for everything. Her chest heaved under his hand, nipples tightening even more at his touch. 

“Tell me when something feels good, Leslie,” he whispered. “Does this feel good.”

“It feels good,” she said, weary.

“Sir, I’m sir in this bedroom.” 

“Okay, sir.” Oh, how he loved how she just accepted what he told her, loved the way _sir_ sounded on her tongue when her breasts were displayed in front of him. Perfect in his hand. 

He moved his other hand down her body, and over her panties, putting a firm pressure on there. Carefully he rubbed his hand in tight small circles, feeling the hot heat of her against his hand.

“Does this feel good?” She was looking up at him so confused, but a flush creeping across her face.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl, good girl,” he applied just a little more pressure on his middle finger, slipping it between her folds, getting more friction. 

“That feels good, sir,” she said, and couldn’t help but rut against it a little, chasing the feeling. It reminded her of the knob on the bed in her room, where she would stand on her knees which would give it just the right angle, it would push against the spot he was pressing against, but it was harder and sometimes felt just like pinching. This felt better,

It felt wrong, though, that knot in her stomach so tight, but she was already there, anyway. She tried to push it away, tell it that it had nothing to fear and that Mr Hammond was just looking out for her. 

He could feel her wetness growing on her panties, feel them getting soaking wet where he pushed the fabric between her thighs. His other hand squeezed her nipple, just a little too hard by how she winced, but she didn’t say anything. He’d only told her to tell her when it felt good, so she bit down on her lip.

“You’re so wet, Leslie,” he said with a laugh. “You’re such a good girl getting so wet for me.” She nodded, confused at how this was an accomplishment but took the compliment anyway.

“Thank you, sir.” She was perfect, so perfect. He couldn’t have wished for someone better. He slipped his hand under her panties and into the slick heat and wetness that she produced for him, circling that hard nub that grew and swelled under his finger, flicking it and rubbing it until she started to pant, grabbing onto his arm and bucking her hips against his hand.

He kissed her then. Pressed his lips against her and forced his tongue into her mouth. Her response was sloppy, but as an unkissed virgin he expected nothing more. She was perfect, with how her tongue slipped against his, confused at the intrusion. Her gasping against his face, small moans escaping from her, as his tongue was in her mouth, it was amazing. He was glad he was not a teenager anymore because he was straining so hard in his pants that he had to unzip them. He would’ve burst already, if he were younger. 

Then suddenly, she became so silent, her hips rutting shallow against his fingers, and he knew. Her first orgasm.

She felt it like a wave of warm crashing towards her, like an edge of something getting closer and closer. She had no idea what it was but her body told her to keep going. His assault on her mouth, his hands rough on her breasts, and the incessant friction against her most personal parts, it was all too much. Without much more warning it washed over her, like a pressure release at the same as it felt like she had never felt that much pressure in her life. Her limbs jerked with no control and a nothingness passed before her eyes.

It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Like she had ascended and walked with god. This was divinity, she was sure. This feeling. 

And then she landed back on earth again. 

“You did amazing, you did so well.” He gave her a peck on the lips, climbing over her. He pulled up her top over her head, and she was still so dazed and her limbs felt like a million tons. She couldn’t resist him, not at all. She had no energy to. 

Then he pulled the zipper down on her skirt and shimmied it down her legs. He threw her clothes somewhere else. 

“God, look at you,” he sighed, pressing his palm against the wet spot on her panties. She winced, overstimulated Unable to help himself he snatched his phone from the bedside table and took a picture of that spot, just to remind himself in the future. “You’re so wet for me.”

For a moment he just looked at her, as she started to come back into herself again. 

“What are you doing?” He gave her a glance. “Sir?” He nodded, smiling, but did not reply as he pulled her panties off as well. These, he would keep. A souvenir. 

Her cunt was hairy, he’d felt that as he rubbed her off. Blonde curls that hadn’t had a day of maintenance. So innocent, so perfect. He kneaded her thighs, pushing them apart further to fit himself between her. 

“It’s my turn, honey.” He pushed his trousers down, pulled his shirt up, and settled between her, leaning on one hand and the other guiding his cock towards her entrance. 

“No, sir,” she said, squirming. She knew that the cock wasn’t supposed to go there, not until you were married. 

“You want to be a good girl, right?” He was breathing heavily, pressing himself against her and feeling the resistance, her body rejecting the intrusion. He would not be deterred. “If you want to be a good girl you have to let me do this.”

“No, no, please Mr Hammond.” Her eyes screwed shut as he pressed further.

It hurt, not a lot but it burned as he started to press inside, the top of his cock squeezed by her tight heat. The orgasm had helped a little, but it was still a tight fit. He pressed further, slowly gaining ground inside of her, and the stinging got worse as a wider part of his cock penetrated her. 

“It hurts, sir, please stop it hurts.” God, she looked positively impaled already, and he still had inches to go before he was burried inside her virgin cunt. Watching her struggle, her feet trying to gain friction against the sheets and push away from him only served to help him get further inside of her as she kicked and pushed and shook. 

This was what he wanted, and his balls tightened even more, his cock hardened more than it had in ages, watching her squirm and cry. God, he wanted her to scream.

He grabbed her knees and pushed them up further against her body, managing to avoid getting kicked in the face.

His decent into her cunt started slow, but as he grew tired of her pitiful whinging, as lovely as it was, he slammed into her.

It felt as if something broke inside of her. Something ripped. Like an open wound deep in her body that his cock pressed against and pulled on more and more. She screamed out, clutching his arm and the sheets to brace against the pain, digging her nails into him. She could feel him inside of her, pushing against something at the top of her cunt. Her womb? It was uncomfortable. She had never felt this full. She felt like she needed to poop but then realized it was him. He was so big it squished the organs inside of her.

“Your virginity will always be mine, Leslie,” he whispered into her ear, drawing himself out and she, who didn’t know any better or what sex or rape actually was, thought he was letting her be now, but then pushed back into her just as hard.

He had planned on going slow but inside of her he felt all control get away from him. All he wanted was to see her tits bounce as he fucked her, see the pained look on her face as she tried her best to hold in her tiny little “ow’s.” She was adorable, so cute, and so ruined by him. 

“After me, no one else will want you.” He kissed her cheeks, her lips- “I want you though, Leslie. Baby I want you so much, can you feel how much I want you?”

She only felt the pain of him, stretching her inside, pushing up against her womb with each thrust inside of her. He felt like he was in her belly, ravaging inside her bowels and claiming every part of her inside.

His hand circled around her neck, putting just enough pressure to make breathing uncomfortable.

“Leslie, I asked you a question.” His tone was warning, like it was to Caroline outside in the living room. 

“Yes, sir.” She quaked. “I can feel you.” He released throat, holding himself up on his elbows above her.

“Good girl, you’re a good girl Leslie.” He kissed the top of her head. He wasn’t going to last long this time. He would have more times to fuck her, to take it slow and watch her come undone again and again on him. To see her wince in pain, shout even, he would get so much more time with her now. He knew it. He knew he could get whatever he wanted, and he wanted Leslie. She was his new toy, and he thought he loved her. But he only loved her like people love new toys. 

She felt his heavy weight collapse ontop of her, he was so tall that he dwarfed her underneath him. He pushed her knees further apart, hooking them over his arms as he set a quicker and quicker pace until she felt like she was drilled by a dull electric saw. Suffocated and so full as his cock hit her womb again and again and again until she suddenly felt something warm erupt inside of her and he groaned into her neck as he jerked himself impossibly deeper inside of her. 

The white stiff. She remembered that. The thing that was on her hand that came from his cock when he groaned and jerked his hips in the office. The thing that could make babies. 

Fear suddenly came alive inside of her again. 

“Sir, please I don’t want a baby,” she said when his groans had silenced and he laid still on top of her. He laughed, and rolled them so that she laid on top of him, his cock still in her body. 

“Don’t worry, baby, I won’t put a baby inside of you.” He squeezed her ass. “I will get you a pill tomorrow that will stop that from happening.” He spanked her ass, just a little, playfully. 

“I don’t want you to put your thing inside me again either, sir.” She rubbed her face against his shirt, tears staining the white shirt. 

“This is what grown ups do.” His cock started to slacken inside of her. “I’m your boss, I make the rules.” He kissed the top of her head. 

“It hurt, sir.” Ah, how he loved that she called him sir still, she didn’t let it slip. She was perfect.

“Sometimes it does, but remember you’re a good girl, and good girls do what they’re told, even if it hurts.” She sniffled. “Because if your a bad girl then that might mean I have to punish your mom or dad, and you don’t want that.” She shook her head. “So you will let me do this again, when I want to?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He felt himself slip out of her, cum was running out of her too. She was claimed. She was his. As long as he wanted he could have whatever he wanted from her and no one could do a thing about it, least of all her.

If he were a younger man he’d have her immediately again at just the admission of letting him have her whenever she wanted. Maybe they would rest for a little while and then he’d be able to go again. 

“Good girl,” he said, and though it didn’t feel as good as the first time he said it, she felt like it was a balm against her wounds, internal and external. At least he still liked her, even though she said no and fought against him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter and quite a bit heavier than previous chapters. This focus mostly on Leslie's POV with just a little Mark sprinkled in.
> 
> This has heavy religious indoctrination vibes and quite a lot of pro-life talking. I'm personally pro-choice but it would not fit with the character to have her be that way. Perhaps she will change her mind, perhaps not. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: talk about abuse in this chapter and some descriptions of it

She ached. It was a deep ache inside of her, unlike anything she had felt before. She couldn’t place it. Some time during the night she had fallen asleep, she didn’t know how she could’ve fallen asleep after what he’d done to her. He’d put the thing that made babies inside of her. She didn’t want a baby, she never wanted a baby. The constant complaints coming from her mom, who currently was unable to hold a meal down, and the wrinkly crying babies that would come at the end of it… she wanted none of that. Especially not at fifteen. 

Carefully she sat up on the bed, looking around for Mark, but found the room empty. A strange heavy feeling settled in her gut, a mixture of disappointment and relief. Disappointment that he’d left her, because she thought he liked her and enjoyed being with her, but relief because she didn’t know how she would face him after what they’d done the night before. 

The clothes she’d worn the day before at work were folded neatly on a chair next to a window. She hurried over there, noticing that her underwear wasn’t in the pile. She would just have to do without them, because she didn’t even know where to start looking. When she straightened her spine after putting on pants she felt the tug of a wound deep in her, like a barely healed scratch reopening itself, and hissed. Did her mom have to go through this every time she had a baby? Never had she felt as sorry for her mom as she did then, and confusion at why her dad would make her go through that. 

What an asshole, she thought to herself. If she thought it quietly then that would do no harm. She figured out that the older she got the more she hated her own father. Was there anything about him that she could like? She doubted it. He put food on the table, she supposed. 

After dressing she slipped out of the bedroom to look for Mark. She had no idea what time it was but the sun was fairly high up in the sky and she had to go home. He had to take her home soon or her parents would get angry with her for skipping out on chores. 

Despite the many children she knew Mark had, the house was silent and empty. There was never a moment of silence in her house, even night times the house was filled with loud snoring coming from her parent’s bedroom. She followed the hallway back towards the living room and kitchen that they had passed the night before, unconsciously walking on light feet as if not to disturb the silence. 

On the couch, next to the spot that Caroline had occupied the day before, sat a boy just a few years or so older than her staring at his phone. She recognized him from school. William was one of the popular seniors, everyone knew who he was. Even she did, and she was largely unaware of most of the things that went on around her. He was good looking, blonde hair in that middle parted haircut all boys seemed to have, but it suited him differently. Despite only being 17, he already had a chiseled jaw, prominent and strong masculine features that no other boy in school did. She would be lying if she said she didn’t have a crush on him, but she would take it to her grave. Her friends, the only two she had, would crucify her if she admitted it.

“Leslie?” he said, interrupting the silence. She jumped, she hadn’t realized that he had seen her there yet. 

“Uh….” She tried to make out words, but then settled for nodding. He smiled at her, it was a kind smile given that his dad had cheated on his wife with her. It confused her, but she wasn’t about to question it. 

“Dad left your pills on the counter.” He jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen. It was a small box with the words PLAN B written on them. This was one thing she knew about, both her pastor and her parents had talked about this pill and the horrifying aftermath of taking them. She grabbed the box, just to make sure that it said what she thought it did. Surely Mark wouldn’t think she would take a pill like that? It must be a mistake, she thought.

“Where’s your dad?” Her voice trembled. She didn’t want a baby and she knew this would stop her from having one, but it would mean she’d have to kill one. Could she live with that? 

“He’s downstairs in the gym, he’ll be back soon.” William looked up from his phone and over his shoulder at her. He must’ve seen the doubt across her face as she flipped the box over in her hands. “What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice was clear, nice, like balm over an open wound.

She sighed. “I don’t want an abortion,” she mumbled, tracing the letters on the box.

“You would have to be pregnant to get one,” he said, sympathy and thinly veiled humor in his voice. 

“What?” She looked over at him, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

“That prevents conception, like it makes you not ovulate for another couple of days so you don’t get pregnant. If you don’t conceive you’re not pregnant.” He stood up from the couch and walked over to her, taking the box out of her hand and opening it. “It’s not an abortion.” 

“But my pastor”

He cut her off. “You’re 15, right?” She nodded. “They lied. Adults lie, all the time.” He walked towards the sink, took a glass out of the cupboard above it and filled it with water. “You don’t want a baby, my dad doesn’t want a baby, and I don’t want another sibling.” He took a pill out of the box with a soft cracking of foil and held it out to her. “It will probably make you feel like crap, but it’s better to feel like crap for a day than for ten months.”

She took the pill and glass from him, still unsure if she should trust his word. 

“You’re not lying, right?” She didn’t want to be a murderer. That’s what they said those women were, the ones that had sex and then changed their minds and killed their babies. 

“You’re learning,” he said, and laughed. “I’m telling the truth.” She believed him. She didn’t know if she should, but she believed that he was being truthful. As far as he knew, and she knew, the information he gave her was true. That was all she had to go on. 

She took the pill. She didn’t want a baby. Maybe she would be a murderer to make sure she never had a baby, she wasn’t sure. She would cross that bridge if it ever she ever came to it. 

“There’s another pill in the package that you have to take in 12 hours.” He pulled it out of the package. It looked like a booklet, giving no doubts to what it actually was. 

“I can’t take that home with me.” She shook her head. Her father would beat her. She couldn’t. 

“Don’t worry.” He popped the other pill out of the package and handed it over to her. “You have one of those smaller pockets on your pants, you can stuff it in there and then in 12 hours take it.” She nodded eagerly, and pushed the pill into the tiny pocket she had never used before in her life. 

“Hey kids,” a man’s voice interrupted them. Leslie looked towards the sound and saw Mark walking towards them. That feeling in her stomach reappeared, now also with nausea. She wanted to vomit. It wasn’t from the pill, that was too soon. 

“Hi dad.” William took the package off of the counter and threw it in the trash under the sink. 

“Ah, fantastic. Thank you William for helping Leslie with the pills.” Mark smiled at his son. He knew that his son didn’t exactly approve, the girl was younger than him, but like a good son he knew better than to question his father. 

“No problem.” William was already sticking his head in the fridge looking for something to eat. 

“Come,” Mark said to Leslie, waving her back into the hallway and into his bedroom. After he closed the door he wrapped his arms around her, pressing himself against her back. “You looked to sweet sleeping this morning I didn’t want to wake you up.”

He smelled of sweat. She wanted to gag. Even his arms were sweaty and sticky. 

“I have to go home,” she said, twisting herself to try to get out of his arms. 

“I know,” he said with a sad sigh. “I’ll drive you home soon, first… can you lie down on your stomach on the edge of the bed?” He kissed the skin behind her ear. She hesitated for a moment, wanting nothing to do with this but also remembering his words from last night. She had to be a good girl, for her parents, so her siblings wouldn’t starve. 

She carefully lay down on her bed, the bed was so high that her feet couldn’t touch the ground as they dangled off the edge of the bed. Instead of thinking about him pulling her pants down her legs, or his hands on her hips and bum, she thought about school. She had homework due for Monday and her friend Charlotte wanted to go dress shopping for the winter dance that the school held in early December each year. She’d pressed the importance of going dress shopping early to make sure that the nice dresses were in stock. Maybe they could even go to Birmingham to find a dress? 

He pushed into her and it hurt more than it did the night before. She wasn’t wet like then, and her insides were already bruised and battered. She whined at the steady and slow intrusion of his blunt cock inside of her, gripping the bed tightly to find something to hold onto as the pain flashed white in front of her eyes. Without thinking she started to crawl up the bed, just to get away from it. He grabbed her hips to keep her still, slamming her down on his cock. 

Mark hadn’t planned to take her like this, to fuck her without getting her ready first. She was still a little wet from last night, enough so that he could fuck her without chafing, but she was so much more tighter like this. It was almost uncomfortable, but for her squirming and panting he could take a little discomfort. 

He withdrew from her and pushed back in, setting a quick and steady pace, knowing that he wasn’t going to last long with how tight her cunt was squeezing his cock.

“God, I can feel you getting wet, Les.” He could fuck her with less friction, sliding in and out of her more easily. He watched her cunt grip his cock as he fucker her. She was gorgeous. 

She felt it too, felt him fitting into her better, felt the wetness as it coated his cock and then his balls, heard the wet slapping of his balls against her. 

“You’re such a slut getting wet like this.” He gripped her hips tighter, fucking her faster and more sloppily than before. “You enjoy being used like this, huh, like a little cock slut?” He laughed, it was almost manical. 

She wanted to protest, because it still hurt and she wanted to go home and lie in her bed with Paige and cry. She didn’t want to be here. But she was wet and that meant she liked it, and if she liked it that meant she’s a slut.

Without much preamble he came inside of her again. She felt the sudden warmth against the top of her cunt, coating her insides, before she even knew what was happening. It didn’t matter though, she thought, she had the pill and he could do that without it making a baby. 

After, he pulled her pants up and buttoned them for her, and then he took her home. Just like that. Without her panties on she could feel the cum trickle out of her as she walked out to the car and sat there next to him. It felt disgusting. She wanted to shower as soon as she came home. 

“See you on Thursday, Leslie,” he said when he stopped outside her small one-story house, squeezing her thigh. 

“See you on friday, sir,” she said as she opened the door to the car and stumbled out of it. 

Would her family see it on her face that she wasn’t a virgin anymore? Would they hate her?

When she came inside she shouted a quick hello before she hightailed it to the bathroom and shed herself of all her clothes and jumped into the shower as she turned it on. There was white stuff and blood coating her thighs and used the still cold water to try to rub it off. It didn’t want to come off easily but with some effort it came off. 

“Leslie Joanne Hammond, you do not-” her mom’s voice started to shout before she paused. “What is this?”

Her mom pulled the curtain open to her young naked child as she held her pants in her hand. The crotch of them had visible white stains and darker blood stains on them. Like the stains that had smeared her thighs. 

When Leslie didn’t answer her mom grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the shower and down the hallway towards her parent’s bedroom. Her body was sopping wet and the air on her wet skin made her shiver uncontrollably. 

“Henry, look at this.” Her mom threw the pants on the bed next to where her father sat with a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth. The grip on Leslie’s arm tightened as Emma struggled to hold her daughter still. 

“The fuck is this?” Her father eyed the crotch of the pants and then back at his wife and daughter. 

“Your daughter’s pants, after she was out all night.” Leslie tried to squirm away from her mom as she felt her fingernails digging into her skin. “Our daughter is a fucking slut,” Emma spat the words out like they were venomous on her tongue. 

“No, no, no,” Leslie said, shaking her head. She didn’t want to do it, she did it for them and for her family. That’s why she laid still. He was too strong. She didn’t know what he was going to do. She didn’t want to do it. 

“Stop,” her mom shouted, shoving her forward with enough force to make Leslie fall to her knees in front of her parents feet. 

“Please, please,” Leslie sobbed. “I didn’t want to, please.” All the tears she couldn’t cry before erupted from her body, wrecking it hard enough to shake her, and quickly snot mingled with the tears dripping down her face. She was a wreck. All of her, inside and out was a wreck. There were bruises on the inside of her thigh, bruises forming on her hips, and now on her arm. 

“Who did you fuck?” her father spat at her. “Stand up!” He shouted, and she pushed herself up on wobbly knees, trying to shield her naked body from view. “Who did you fuck?” he asked, calmly this time, but she could see the anger behind his eyes. 

“I didn’t want to.” She tried to gasp for air, but the backhand across her face stunned her into cold realization. There was nowhere to run, no comfort anywhere. 

“Who?” he asked again, glaring down at her. 

“Mr Andersen,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body as she struggled to keep herself upright. 

“You fucked our boss?” Her dad’s voice was incredulous, disgust seeping through. 

“He -- I said no, but he did it anyway.” She was surprised at the calm in her voice, how level it was. She tried to cut out a part of herself, tried to tuck it into the depth of her being, started to build a wall. Already she could feel the distance between her and her father. 

“We’re supposed to believe that he would want to fuck you?” Her dad laughed, she could hear her mom stifle a laugh too. “I always knew you were a bad seed, but I didn’t think you would stoop so low as to seduce a man three times your age.” 

“What should we do?” Her mom asked from the doorway. 

“Call pastor Joel and book an a counseling session with him tomorrow after service,” her dad said, “say it’s an emergency.” He looked at the pants. “And burn those pants.”

Leslie watched in horror as her mom walked away with her pants with the pill inside of it that would make sure she wouldn’t become a mother at fifteen. In the doorway to her room she saw Paige peeking out with big green eyes looking at her, a bun of thick brown hair on top of her head. They looked very little alike, but in that moment Leslie saw her own pain and fear mirrored in her younger sister’s eyes. 

Paige knew more than Leslie did, even though she was younger. Paige believed her sister, that her sister didn’t want any of this. They might as well have been countries apart though, because as much pain as Paige felt for her sister she feared crossing the threshold into the hallway far more. 

Instead they could only stare at each other as Leslie could see the flames of a small fire on the rocks outside of the house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: 1 read tags, 2 this gets super dark really fast.
> 
> Sorry for taking like 8 months to update this. I was in a bad place back then, and then I got covid in march (yay!) and have been pretty poorly since. I did write this chapter a few months back but scrapped it all because I hated it. I think I wrote myself in a corner last chapter, which was dumb. Anyway, the first draft was something like this but also not. I truly apologize if the quality is worse, I did try my best but... we are where we are. Wanted to give this a proper ending.
> 
> Please read the notes at the bottom, it's got some information I want to share.

Leslie was not in her own body. Somewhere above it all she was floating, they were talking but she couldn’t make out a single word. The priest was sitting in her father’s chair, sunk down with knife sharp knees jabbing into the air. He was too tall for the chair, but he still sat there and commanded the room. Their living room wasn’t a church, the low ceiling and crushing atmosphere of poverty and misery was too much. Leslie was convinced that god had never entered her home, not even as pastor Joel walked through the front door.

No matter how hard she tried to focus on what they were saying she couldn’t understand any of the words. Sometimes she heard her name spoken, a whip slashing the air, but it didn’t make sense to her. None of it did. Dad had told her to sit still and look pretty, she’d done enough damage already. The constant stabbing pain reminded her. Mom had picked out her dress. It was too long and big on her, made her look so much younger than her fifteen years of age. 

Was there a point to her even being there? Sitting like a prop, like a doll told to behave. A puppet with strings pulled taught and nowhere to move. She wondered if Joel could see the stain on the floor next to his feet. She’d been thirteen and got in trouble in school for talking back to her teacher. Mom had punched her so hard that her nose started bleeding, the blood pouring into a pool on the floor just by the feet of the pastor. 

Spare the rod, that’s what they said. 

Spare _me_ God, she thought, her eyes stuck on the stain. 

A young girl’s mission was to stay pure, to avoid the temptations that would spoil her, use her up. Only those who followed god’s words, who passed the tests, would enter the kingdom of god. If Joel had been god he would’ve kicked her out of heaven, but Joel wasn’t god. 

There was no god in this house, maybe god had left this town. 

Maybe there was no god. 

\------

There was no way to regain purity once lost. A crumpled flower would never bloom again. She was not a dirty sock. Pastor Joel took her hands and prayed for her forgiveness, but she heard his words as he pleaded with god. The priest did not believe she would receive forgiveness. 

\---

Do not cross god, was what she had learned. Pastor Joel was convinced that everything was god’s plan. Even this, and eventually looked at her parents and told them that Mr Andersen was a man of god, and as a man of god he was a vessel of god’s plan. 

Who were they to interfere with the plan of god, even if it seemed wrong to us. Through the distortion she could hear him explain, tell them to have faith. He would speak with Mr Andersen. 

It was only then that pastor Joel looked her in her eyes, and his icy blue were sharper than knives. 

“We are all servants of God, Leslie. Our role is to listen and obey. There’s no need to cause a fuss here over this, it seems we just have a man blessed with love, and who are we to judge that?” His smile was slow on his face, too polished. She wanted to grab a pan from the kitchen and swing it at him. 

“Yes, Pastor,” she replied instead, lowering her eyes to her knees, burrowing holes in the fabric, hoping that laser beams would explode from her eyeballs, blow herself and everyone in this room up. It didn’t happen.

When the pastor left her mom stood in the living room with her hand on her stomach, it was already swelling in a noticeable way, looking at her with such hatred and disgust it penetrated into Leslie’s soul. 

“Go to your room, I don’t want to see your face, stay in there until I say you can leave.”

\---

When she was a child it never bothered her that her parents planned things about her life. She was a fairly easy child to raise and rarely raised a fuss. They would tell her what to wear, who to play with, what to read, believe, and learn. The decisions were small then, and though they may have had a big impact on her, it never felt like it then. 

As much as she had dreamed of seeing a place outside of Loughbury she’d never expected anything outside of it. Like most girls she was expected to marry and reproduce, and preferably stay at home with the kids. She had no dreams of college, she didn’t have the grades for it, either way. 

Maybe it was because she was 15, over halfway to 16, but she had never before realized how trapped she was, that her parents were ruining any prospects she had of getting out, breaking a cycle of generational shit and becoming her own person. There were no options for her, only their choices. 

For a moment she contemplated running away, but she had no money, nowhere to go, and nowhere to get there. The greyhound that passed through once a month could’ve been an option, but the man in the ticketbooth was her neighbor. She didn’t have any money. 

God, it appeared, had plans. Those plans were for her to pack her bags and left on the doorstep of Mark Andersen’s home. 

\---

Mark was pleasantly surprised by pastor Joel when the man had stopped by his house that Sunday. At first, he admit he had been rattled when the priest told him of his meeting at the Hammond house, he’d had sex with a fifteen year old so of course he knew there were risks. He hadn’t thought Leslie would tell, that didn’t sound like her at all. 

“I do not want this young girl’s reputation and purity to be tarnished by these acts, she’s got so much life ahead of her and an event like this could really hurt her chances in life. What boy would marry a used girl?” The priest hummed and hawed, walking circles on the office floor. 

“A young girl as her is easily swayed by desire, easily corrupted by the devil to take paths they should avoid, but god also makes plans for all of us, and within these plans are tests, one which Ms Hammond failed, obviously.” Letting the priest have his monologue Mark leaned back in his chair to watch. 

“A misdeed like that should be punished, of course, but I feel it in my heart that I cannot let this girl be lost from the grace of god, not at such a young age, not when this is her first transgression after being such a dutiful daughter and a follower of christ.” Joel shook his head mournfully before facing Mark again. 

“I know you have desired a divorce from your wife for quite some time now, and our church will bless that divorce if you marry Leslie Hammon.” Mark nearly choked on his own spit. “The only way for Ms Hammond’s soul to be saved is to marry the man who took part in it being soiled.” 

“What? Are… are you?” Mark was rarely, if ever, lost for words, but this was something he had not yet expected. 

“The parents will sign off on it, they have already agreed.” Joel put his hands on the desk, leaning over to come face to face with Mark. “It is our duty to walk the path of god, and he has laid out his plans for Leslie and you, but I cannot force you to follow it, just remind you that you are saving the soul and life of a young woman by marrying her, making her an honest woman. The devil may crave her soul but we have the chance to save it.”

Floored, was how Mark would describe the feeling. 

“Okay,” he said. If the priest blessed it, then the town would be onboard. The priest and congregation could do no wrong in the eyes of god, and that was all that mattered. He would be free of his wife, no longer being stuck in a marriage were he couldn’t tolerate the old hag his wife had become. Leslie would be the perfect wife, everything he wanted a wife to be. 

\---

He pushed inside of her, filling her up and tearing apart the healing wounds inside of her. She huffed, trying to not clench and to not scream. Be quiet, be what he wants from her, make sure he marries her or she’s got nothing. He pulled out of her and snapped his hips to push into her again with enough force to almost knock the wind out of her. 

Flailing at something to grab she held onto the headboard above her, holding on steady to keep herself still on the bed. 

“My child bride,” Mark whispered in her ear, his hand circling her rib cage, hand almost big enough to cover her torso, dragging it up and against her neck, putting pressure on her windpipe. Just enough for her to feel the slight restriction in her breaths, but not enough to cut it off completely. He slowed his pace to watch her open mouth pant to get air into her lungs, the worried shine in her eyes. He wondered if he liked her more like this, or if he’d like it better when he’d taught her to feel pleasure from it, from pleasing him. There would be good in both, he supposed. 

He pulled out of her, suddenly, and flipped her over, and entered her from behind. Ass in the air as he told her to keep it there, face in the mattress. 

“You know what I’m going to do?”Anything he’d held back before was gone, she was his now after all, and he slapped her ass as hard as he could, his other hand hold her hips in place as she tried to jump off his cock. “The exemption in the state for me to marry you, is if you are pregnant.” He slapped her ass again, watching the red bloom on her pale skin. “I wanted to wait, to enjoy this little unmarred body just a little while longer.” Smiled at the vision in front of him, her red face, her ass in the air and that little puckered hole just above where his cock had found his place. “But… you’re mine.” 

His thumb brushed against that tight little hole, pressing lightly on it and feeling the resistance of the sphincter, but just a little pressure and his thumb was sucked in He watched her face as her eyes went wide and hands flailing against the bedsheets. 

“This cunt is mine, this asshole is mine, your mouth is mine, your tits are mine, your body is mine.”

The pain was sharp, uncomfortable, but persistent. She didn’t know why he would put something in there. 

“Did you know that you can fuck someone’s asshole, as well?” He pushed his thumb further into the tight hole, quickening his pace as he fucked her. No condom, no plan b this time, no birth control. “Some day, soon, I’m going to put my cock in there.” 

“Will it hurt?” she asked, because if the pain from his thumb was anything to go by it was going to be excruciating. 

“I don’t want to ruin your asshole, but… it’ll hurt.” He withdrew his thumb from her and slapped her ass again, just a couple of quick ones to see the redness grew more vibrant and to hear her yelp. “But pain doesn’t have to be bad, little darling.” He circled his hands around her, fingers drawing circles around her swollen clit, eliciting that sensation that made her abdomen fill with inexplicable pleasure. The other hand hand pulled at her breast, tugging, twisting, and pulling at her nipple. She was hanging on a wire between pain and pleasure, with his cock inside of her pounding against her cervix leaving her breathless. 

She didn’t know where to get, how to deal with it other than to just give in. Let all the sensations wash over her until she couldn’t distinguish one from the other and she exploded into an orgasm that wiped her mind blank, vision white, and limbs completely useless. She could not move her limbs even as she came to again, with Mark’s punishing pace picking up and becoming less and less rhythmic until she felt the warmth of his cum fill her up and he collapsed ontop of her back, once again knocking the breath out of her. 

“I told you so, Les,” he whispered in her ear, and gave her sweaty forehead a loving peck. She wanted to ask what he’d told her, what he meant. He said so many things and she didn’t pay attention. It didn’t matter. She had no say anyway.

\---

She wore white. Even though she was three months pregnant and obviously not a virgin, the dress was white enough to blind someone. No one knew, yet everyone knew. It was the kind of secret that never was one. Why else did a fifteen year old girl one month from her 16th marry a man so many years older? 

If someone asked her to recall the wedding ceremony she wouldn’t have been able to tell them anything. Just the moment before where she considered running away, one last time, before realizing her predicament. She could have an abortion. She’d told Mark that when they found out, that he could back out now and she wouldn’t blame him, just leave this town and never come back. She was already going to hell so what was one abortion? She’d kill every child that entered her womb if she had to. 

He said no, obviously. 

No one would drive her anywhere, and even if she was 16 already she didn’t know how to drive. Mark said she didn’t need to know, he could drive her and he had drivers. 

His home was her prison. It wasn’t her home, and it never would be. 

She just had to learn how to love him. Learn what he wanted from her so that he’d love her. Men are different than women, her mother had said after the ceremony, they need to see your love through actions. Just obey and your life will be easier. 

She didn’t want a daughter, because this was not a home for a girl to live in. She didn’t want a son, because what if he grew up to be like his father.

One time she had seen people protesting for the right to abortion and they had used a clothing hanger to symbolize it. She had googled it, because Mark didn’t monitor the computer as tightly as her parents and she had learned to delete her browsing history. Once upon a time, before abortion was legal, some women used clothing hangers, unraveling them and pushing it up into their vagina to self-abort.   
For a while it was just a thought, but as she sat at the reception with Marks hand sweaty in hers, she made up her mind.

\----

The white tiles on the bathroom floor were painted crimson by the blood. She thought she would feel pain, but after the initial stab it was like her body went numb. It was so much, and it was on her hands, on her night dress, on the floor. She grabbed the counter as the wooziness hit. 

The mangled hanger in her hand clattered to the floor without her realizing she’d dropped it. She had to sit down. She was getting tired.

\--------------------  
\------------------  
\---------------  
\------------  
\---------  
\------  
\---

Where were you at age 19? Not many people would say testifying in the supreme court. 

Paige wrung her hands as she stood outside of the building, waiting for the final sentence to be heard. Part of her was sure she was going to get justice. One part of her worried, though because humanity had let her down so many times in her life. It was only lately that things seemed to be looking up. After Leslie died on her wedding night, only 15 years old, things changed. Not immediately to the better, and she was sure it would take a long time before the better would arrive, but things changed.

News crews showed up in their small town, driving her and her family out. Seeking refuge far away from Loughsbury. While the change in environment opened Paige’s world up to more things, to things beyond religion and small town life, it didn’t change their parent’s own fundamentalist christian views. Paige knew she had to do something though, she had to drive the change she wanted, to make Leslie’s death count. To make it mean something.

Leslie’s Law. Her law, that made it a federal law that child marriages under any and all circumstances were illegal. Through the help of her new school she had been able to contact groups that were already lobbying for this law, but with the face of Leslie who died because child marriages were still legal, it was given a new momentum. 

It took years but they were finally standing outside after their testimonials. 

She didn’t know if Leslie was in heaven, she didn’t know if heaven existed. She didn’t know if Leslie would be proud of her, she never really knew her sister, only those brief moments of confessions where she would tell her how scared she was. They didn’t get much time between Leslie moving out and her death, but the times they did talk would forever be scarred into her heart as simultaneously the worst and best moments of her life. 

The doors opened. 

\----

Leslie’s Law makes it illegal for any minor to marry, whether it be to another minor, to an adult, or due to any circumstances regardless of the impact it would have on the status or situation of the minor. 

\----

Leslie died, but not in vain. 

Her grave was filled with flowers. A life lost for many won, still unforgivable, still wasted. But not in vain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that child marriage is legal in the US? Please do look it up and try to become part of the change that is desperately needed, because children are suffering due to this. Not many people know this and it is honestly horrifying. 
> 
> It might seem hypocritical to write about this this way, but... I write about the atrocities in the world as a way of processing it. This is also why I wrote an ending as dark as this: because it is a horrible thing, and Leslie's situation might not be exactly anyone's situation bc I took a lot of creative liberties, but there are people out there with very similar stories. Child marriage anywhere is horrible and needs to be stopped, and people don't think it's happening in the "developed" world.


End file.
